Libertas Quae Sera Tamen
by JulsKaye
Summary: Will & Kate are on assignment in Nicaragua while Biggie and Henry are at a Sanctuary technology conference. Druitt shows up at the Sanctuary in need of Helen's help.  The players will soon realize that all of their threads must weave together.
1. Rainy Day Memories

**Welcome! **I hope you all enjoy the saga that is about to unfold. Many thanks in advance to my beta-Bo. As a legal disclaimer, I do not own anything - besides, all my stuff is currently in storage in Texas - but, I mean in regards to Sanctuary. All canon characters are property of Kindler, Tapping, Wood, . The story is mine and so are the original characters, but if Sanctuary ever wants them, they can have them too!

-Juls

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Rainy Day Memories<strong>

The wind blew softly in the trees as the rain clouds rolled in. The sun had started to set and there was a faint green tint that gave an air of eeriness to the tumultuous sky. A storm was brewing and Helen found herself staring out the thick glass window as the heavens churned. It was this weather that made her yearn for England with an aching for moments and friends passed.

It was a different millennia, but one thing had remained unchanged in her double lifetime - the weather. Storms and seasons blew in and out as faithfully as the years that continued to pass while her body stayed the same. As she was lost in thought, she found herself reflecting back a century to a similar brewing summer storm.

_"Do you think we'll be flooded in?" A young Helen turned to her father and eagerly awaited an answer. The dark and stormy sky outside of the office window had caused an unrecognized fear to rise up in her. Anxiously she asked again as she turned to look out the window once more. "Papa, do you?"_

_Gregory Magnus was lost in thought as he scribed notes in his medical journal. At the sound of his daughter's voice he looked up and smiled sympathetically, "There's nothing to worry about, my dear."_

_Helen pressed her face against the marbled glass and traced the first drop of rain as it trickled down the window. No sooner had her finger reached the bottom of the windowpane than a dozen similar rivers began flowing along the glass. Within seconds a sheet of water distorted the view of their estate lawn. The thunder rumbled outside and she instinctively jumped back from the glass._

_Her father noticed and his heart instructed him to tend to work later. Removing his glasses, he stood and walked around the desk to his blonde-hair, blue-eyed beauty. With an audible exhale, he got down on his knees by her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You have nothing to fear, my love." Rubbing her arm gently, he looked out the window with her, "Thunder is just the sound of heated air expanding."_

_"Heated air from the lightning?" She let out a long, slow breath and placed her tiny hand against the window again, the glass noticeably cooler now than it had been when bathed in sun only an hour ago._

_Dr. Magnus placed his hand over his daughter's. "Yes, my brilliant child, yes." His hand pressed gently against hers as he stared at his precious girl who was once more intrigued by the storm._

A flash of lightning on the horizon brought her attention back to the present and she instinctively began counting silently, "One, two, thr…" a roll of thunder ended her count and she smiled knowing that she was just over half a mile from the strike.

The storm was close and Helen was alone in the house to enjoy it. Will and Kate were off in South America chasing down an abnormal that had been terrorizing a small town. Henry and 'the Big Guy', as Kate so fondly called him, were attending a yearly Sanctuary technology conference in Thailand. Magnus would have gone, but she felt the boys deserved the vacation and as such, she had agreed to tend the fort herself.

Sipping at the glass of wine that was in her left hand, her right traced the first drop of rain down the windowpane. The wine and water droplets suddenly stirred another fond memory.

_"Come with me, my dear!" John Druitt urged as he reached towards her hand. "We can avoid getting drenched if we run."_

_"Sir, of what need is running?" She smiled as she walked towards him, taking his hand for a reason other than fear. "I feel that a good dose of rain is healthy for the soul."_

_He slowed his steps to match hers. "Is that so, Doctor Magnus?" He smiled and watched as her blonde curls bounce lightly with each step. There was so much beauty contained within this woman and she was unaware of the power that she wielded over him._

_"I believe so. Have you ever wondered what causes thunder?" She looked upwards at the sky and reached her hand out. A smile formed across her face as the first drip of celestial water ran down her middle finger into her palm._

_"Enlighten me." He smiled, already knowing the answer but wanting to make this moment last as long as possible._

The sudden sound of cracking air, not thunder, and the scent of a familiar presence snapped Helen back to the present. Turning quickly with her now empty wine glass she saw John Druitt standing in front of her desk. "Sorry to drop in on you like this. So glad you're hom…" he started, before collapsing to the ground.

Her glass shattered as it hit the floor.


	2. Diagnostic Ministrations

**Chapter 2: Diagnostic Ministrations**

"John, can you hear me?" Helen leaned over his body, instinctively pressing her fingers against his neck. She adeptly found his pulse – it was racing. His skin was pale and clammy. Lifting his eyelid, she noted his blood shot eyes and dilated pupils.

Instinctively, she opened his characteristic duster, looking for any indication of a wound. There was no pool of blood. No ripped clothing. His face, neck and hands showed no bruising, cuts or other indication of a struggle. She placed her hand on his forehead; he was burning up.

Immediately, Helen became concerned for not only his safety but also those in her care. What if he had brought an infection to her Sanctuary? "John," she tapped his cheek gently, "can you hear me?"

His eyes opened widely as he gasped suddenly for air. "Helen?" His voice was hoarse and his eyes swam side to side as he tried to distinguish which face was actually hers.

"John," She stared into his eyes, her mind flooded with questions but only one of imminence, "what's going on?"

As he came around, she quickly reviewed what weapons were within easy access. John was not one to devise such an elaborate rouse, but he was also not always in control of himself. Over a year ago, they had proved that his killing nature was due to a malignant energy being that lived within him, but they had been unsuccessful in removing it.

"I apologize," he waivered as he attempted to sit up, "for dropping in on you like this." Helen instinctively placed a hand behind him in support. He reached up slowly and rubbed his forehead firmly with his hand.

"You have a fever and your heart is racing," she stated as a matter of fact. While he was clearly in danger he didn't seem to be in any state to cause physical harm to her or hers, however she refused to let her guard down while the fear of a bio threat still lingered.

"I didn't know where else to turn," he looked into her eyes with a timidity and fear she had never seen before in their depths. "I am myself, but…" He turned his head quickly, as if suddenly realizing his surroundings. "It could have followed me. Believe me when I say you need to activate the EM shield."

After notable hesitation, Magnus reached up to her desk and tapped in a string of commands into her laptop. The image on the screen showed a red and green circle that expanded over a blue print image of the sanctuary as she activated the perimeter of the building. While she wasn't fully trusting of Druitt, this would also prevent his movement throughout the Sanctuary and was probably good practice, regardless.

Noticing his unsteadiness as he attempted to stand, she assisted and led him to the sofa. As he sat down, he seemed more coherent. Helen poured a glass of water and offered it to him before sitting by his side. "Now John, tell me what is going on?" She reached for his right wrist to take his pulse again.

Sipping the water with his left hand, he turned to look at her. His fear subsided ever so slightly as he looked into her eyes. There was so much history, good and bad, contained therein. For a moment a surge of buried emotions attempted to surface but he swallowed hard and began to recount recent events. "I have been trying to destroy the beast inside of me," he stated almost calmly in his English accent.

His pulse had slowed slightly, but it was still over 180 beats per minute. She noted his hands were trembling and his face was devoid of color. "I believe we should continue this conversation in the infirmary?"

"Perhaps that would be best," he swayed slightly as he attempted to rise.

"Let me help you," she offered. While worried about what had happened and why he had come here, at the moment she was more concerned for his safety. As they made their way out of her office on foot, she grabbed a small pistol from under the end table by the door and slipped it deftly into the back of her pants - better safe than sorry.

As they entered a quarantined section of the infirmary, Helen steadied John. He leaned heavily on her, but the weight she felt wasn't just that of his body, but also of her buried guilt, a responsibility for all that had happened to him. While it seemed like lifetimes ago, she could recall the moment of source blood injection so clearly.

Carefully, she removed his coat and helped him onto the main observation bed. He melted into the mattress, his body aching in protest to their walk. "I don't deserve your kindness," he smiled weakly as she unbuttoned his shirt in order to hook him up to the equipment and start an EKG.

"You are correct," she managed, ever so slightly distracted by his chest, which was scarred with signs of electric shock and bruising. "But, I have a notorious weakness for hard luck cases."

Chuckling softly, he began coughing and Helen noticed his hand shake as he lifted it to his mouth. "What have you done to yourself?" she asked as she stroked his arm softly while she activated the machinery.

"It's gone…the beast is gone," he mumbled as he lost consciousness again.


	3. Cold Water

**Chapter 3: Cold Water**

"I can't believe there's no hot water here!" Kate shouted through the door to Will as she wrapped the towel tightly around her body. The shower was 'refreshing' in more ways than one - she was grateful to have the caked mud off of her skin and she definitely felt invigorated by the cold water,

"Just hurry, I'm still waiting for a turn." Will responded, throwing his filthy shirt onto the floor on top of his boots and socks, he'd deal with that later. "I still don't understand where that creature went?" Will half-asked, half-stated.

"I know!" The door to the bathroom flew open in an exasperation that mimicked the look on Kate's face. "We were right there according to the thermal scans and then, bam" she threw hands up in agitation as she spoke, the wrapped towel wavering slightly on her head.

"It doesn't make sense," he muttered heading towards the empty shower, "I was hoping this would be an in and out extraction, but it seems that tomorrow's date with Abby will have to be rescheduled."

"Taking your girl out, eh?" she punched Will playfully in the arm as he passed. He recoiled at the sting.

"Yes," he managed, still rubbing his arm gingerly; "we were going to a new restaurant downtown which serves a Victorian dinner by candlelight. It's her birthday and I had a few things planned. But, I should have known this," he gestured towards his muddy pants and legs, "would have happened."

"You saw us chasing after a disappearing abnormal in the middle of Masaya, Nicaragua?" Freelander joked as the door to the bathroom shut. "Dude, why didn't you give me a heads up? I wouldn't have dove head first around that tree and into that mud pit!"

"You know what I mean!" He shouted back over the sound of the running shower water.

She simply shook her head and pulled out the bag of recently bought clothes from the artisan market, lots of thin cotton items but no jeans or t-shirts. She was grateful they were able to find somewhere to shop in the tiny town as she slipped into a set of hand-woven jade pajamas.

As Will shivered reaching for a towel, he heard Kate ask, "So, where do we pick up tomorrow with this extraction?"

Hurrying to wrap the towel around his goose bump covered skin, Will shrugged, unseen by Kate. "I say we retrace today's steps, starting where we first picked up the signal. The files said it's not a fast creature."

Kate fiddled with a muddy handheld device, wiping the screen clear enough to make out an empty grid. "That's for sure. Looks a lot like a sloth and moves as such. Maybe we can recalibrate this tracker. That thing was all over the map. The last Bradypodidae docilus I caught was a walk in the park. Tranq'd from a distance, bagged and sold for a nice sum of money," she smirked, thinking back to the days past. "There's no way Hank programmed this correctly," she muttered, fiddling with the casing.

Will had done his homework and thought that they were well equipped for this tag and bag. The Bradypodidae docilus, or Angel Sloth, was an abnormal offshoot of the three-toed sloth. The subtle differences being its carnivorous nature and a unique defense mechanism, a chemical spray to fend off predators and euthanize small prey. The mist was not fatal to humans and other large animals, but the effect of inhaling the musk was cited as a semi-paralyzing, hallucinogenic high comparable to a combination of rohypnol and phencyclidine. A live adult Bradypodidae docilus would sell for upwards of $75,000 on the black market, after which, it would be caged and 'milked' for the compound, which fetches more than $50 an ounce on the street.

"Why is it these assuredly 'calm creatures' are the ones that wreak the most havoc?" Will postulated as he exited the restroom, clad in a new pair of cerulean cotton pajama pants. "Lepidoptera, Nubbins, Vampire squid, and now Bradypodidae docilius, the Angel Sloth." He plopped down on the bed opposite Kate's with a tablet, intent on reviewing the file.

"You'll feel like you're flying with angels if you get a whiff of what it's selling," she smirked as the casing popped off. "Ha! Let's see if I can't fix Hank's mistake. Maybe I should be presenting at that tech conference instead."


	4. Deliberation

**Notes:**

Ok, I remembered this time that I have to write my OOC notes in the story itself ;) Smooth move on my part, new to this site. Many thanks to those who have reviewed (Feyfangirl). Many thanks for following along this far ;) Enjoy the next installment! If you have comments, suggestions or complaints, feel free to review or PM - I'm open to (and thrive on) feedback!

-Juls

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

**Chapter 4: Deliberation **

John's fever, despite the administration of antipyretics, remained steady at 40 C. Helen wrung the cool towel out into the bowl of water and dabbed it on his forehead with her right hand. In her left, she scanned once more over the blood tests that she had conducted thus far. Balancing the tablet on her lap, she swiped her fingers across the screen, opening the next page of results. His platelet and white blood cell counts were well below normal, his fever was soaring and his pulse had fluctuated between high and dangerously high.

He had slept for the last three hours. Magnus had finished evening rounds of the Sanctuary and had settled in for the night at his side. It was as much for his comfort as it was for her own, still uncertain as to his motives and condition. One thing was known - whatever he had he was not contagious. Past experiences, however, dictated she keep him in the quarantined room.

Placing the tablet down, she stood and sighed softly. The diagnostic results were inconclusive as of yet – his condition could be a viral infection, a drug overdose, a thyroid disorder or any of a number of known illnesses, not to mention the list of innumerable unknowns. She decided to wait for the system to run a full body scan; after that she would have a better idea of where to begin her research.

Standing, she turned her full attention to John Druitt. Never had she imagined that one human being could cause such visceral turmoil at a glance – antagonism, trepidation, angst, desire, resentment, panic, disappointment, confusion, care. Despite the ocean of emotions that she kept buried, only one had managed to bubble to the surface in this moment and that was concern. Only once before had she seen him in such an assailable state and her memory drifted momentarily to Cambodia.

As she gently pressed the washcloth onto his forehead, she wondered what could have happened to cause him to retreat here. There was a litany of questions, all betraying her stoic mien of logic and control. Was this just an elaborate ploy? Was he really as vulnerable as he appeared? Was she his only sanctuary after all these years? Could she afford to let her guard down? At their last meeting in Hollow Earth, he made it clear that all debts were paid in full. He stated that he owed her nothing.

It had taken over a century for Helen to come to terms with the brutal acts that his hands had committed. In the past, she had clinically rationalized it by diagnosing him as a psychopath, induced by the source blood's infusion with underlying, preexisting homicidal tendencies. More recently, with Will's support, she had concluded this was more an amalgamation of depersonalization and dissociative identity disorders. But even that was inaccurate, since there was actually an external, yet internal, force driving the homicidal rage. In the last year it had been revealed that when the malignant energy being that resided in him is excised, John can be seemingly restored to his former self. Could she afford to trust his feverish claim that the beast had been excised? It wasn't her safety that she was concerned with, she could handle herself; but it wasn't she that had paid the price in the past.

Her eyes glanced at the scar that dressed his right cheek. A would that she herself had inflicted.

_Helen walked along the cobblestone, her heels sounding her approach in the eerie quiet mist. London had been terrorized of late but she was heading to put an end to the hunt. She had followed him and he had chosen his next victim. She inhaled sharply. The last shreds of doubt were flushed away as she heard the near stealth sound of his rapier being unsheathed._

The scene replayed in her mind. After a century and a half, the dialogue was inconsequential. She had offered help but he was unreachable. Her heart raced perceptibly as the incident echoed in her mind.

_She cocked the pistol and aimed it at the man who had been her fiancé only weeks before. The ultimatum was given. He fabricated hope of escape in front of the woman he had chosen. Three rancorous seconds passed. He sliced her neck with his blade. Before the first drop of blood fell, Helen pulled the trigger. There was a crimson flash. He was gone._

While the sanguine scene had haunted her in her youth, the more recent image of John willingly reabsorbing the malevolent energy creature after a century of uncharacteristic blood lust and self-imprisonment superseded her Whitechapel nightmare.

He had sacrificed his freedom to save her sanctuary.

"John," she muttered softly, averting her eyes from the scar on his cheek as she wrung out the towel and returned it to the wash bin. "What is going on?" She placed her hand on his chest in an uncharacteristic attempt to glean something of his intentions. Instead she felt the rapid beating of his heart and labored breathing. Something inside told her that this was a vulnerability that was more than atypical for Victorian era bred John Druitt.

Yielding to compassion, Helen returned to her seat at the side of his bed. Resting her head on his shoulder, she held his hand gently in hers and let exhaustion take over.


	5. Raisa

**NOTES:** Once more, I'd like to thank those of you who are following along. Many thanks to Feyfangirl for her latest review! Please continue to R&R and enjoy the story! Now, to introduce a new original character that I hope you enjoy!

-Juls

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Raisa<strong>

"In the last few years, our Sanctuary security systems have been tested to the limit and in many ways, we have been successful. However, much work still needs to be done if we are going to continue to keep our houses secure, from both external and internal threats." Raisa continued in her notable Russian accent. "It is important that we further our improvements to ensure the safety of our residents and staff.

"Following the upgrade to our internal network at the Sanct Peterburg site, I recommended similar improvements to all of our houses around the globe." Nervously, her hand raised and brushed back her long auburn hair from her face. She glanced into the audience, which was seemingly attentive. She felt a very familiar presence and noticed an old friend in the back of the small conference room. A smile crossed her face before she continued with her presentation on Network Security.

"I knew it. She likes me," Henry leaned over and whispered into the ear of his travel companion. "Did you see," he nudged Bigfoot's arm playfully, "she just smiled at me."

The large, Neanderthal grunted softly. "She is too smart," he inhaled audibly twice, "to be attracted to you." Ignoring the slight smell of pheromones that Henry was emitting, he focused on Raisa, fondly remembering the day Magnus brought her to the sanctuary.

_The door flew open and the August rain pelted the front hallway. He rushed to the door as Magnus carried in a small, unconscious girl. Her hair was tangled and water dripped from its ends onto the tiled floor below. She was wearing what tattered pieces remained of a pale blue cotton nightgown. As he reached out his arms to take her, he noticed that her skin was pale and cold to the touch. Her tiny body, which was much frailer than Ashley's, shivered uncontrollably from prolonged exposure to the elements._

_Magnus noticed how he looked at the young child with such concern; the outside world would be quick to judge his kind but she knew there was no safer place for the small telepath than in his arms. "Get her to the infirmary. She needs warmth and fluids. Set up an IV and I'll be right down." He nodded and grunted audibly as he turned to carry the girl downstairs._

_Moments later, she was lying on the bed. Helen had brought down a pair of Ashley's flannel pajamas and he had dressed the girl. Carefully he draped blankets over her and watched as Magnus prepared an IV. He carefully placed the needle below the fold in her arm as she hooked up the bag of fluids. He had seen many abnormals in the years he had worked with her, but never one that seemed so fragile and innocent. She reminded him in many ways of Ashley, but it was clear that their habitats were far different._

"_Will she," he inhaled twice audibly before placing a hand on her arm as the IV began to drip slowly," be ok?"_

_Glancing at the monitor, Magnus nodded. "She will need antibiotics and nourishment. Who knows how long it's been since she had a good meal and a place to stay." Helen sighed softly and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We reached her in time. She would not have survived the upcoming winter outside of Novosibirsk. You were correct to follow that lead. I would not have been able to find her without your information."_

_He grunted softly. "I will stay with her."_

Henry nudged him back to the present. "Dude, she's coming to say hi, how do I look?" He glanced down at his grey t-shirt and quickly brushed his hands down his jeans. "Well?" In addition to being gorgeous, she worked with abnormals and knew how to set up a linux firewall using the pieces of an inoperable computer and spare wiring; she was perfect.

Reaching up, the big guy slapped him on the head before standing to greet the presenter.

Raisa hurried her step. She could feel the excitement in the room and had shut out most of the minds in the room as she headed purposefully to the back of the crowd. The only thoughts that breached her barrier were those of the hands she shook as she crossed the floor. Within seconds, she was nearing the last row of seats.

Henry reached out his right hand to meet her, his left still rubbing the back of his head from the seemingly undeserved slap. He was notably surprised when she didn't make eye contact with him, but instead with the Big Guy.

"Poosha! Privyet." She smiled widely as she wrapped her arms around his furry torso. She pressed her cheek against his chest and inhaled deeply. He smelled the same as she remembered from her youth.

He enveloped her whole in the hug and chuckled, "Raisa, good to see you."

"Poosha?" Henry muttered, completely confused by the entire situation. "Is that your first name?"

"No," Raisa grinned, stepping back and extending a hand to the smaller of the two men. "Raisa Semin, head of all things technological at the Russian Sanctuary and you are Henry Foss. I have to say, your work on extending the frequency on the adaptable IR stunners, incredible. I can't tell you how many times it has come in handy for Siberian extractions. And his name," she laughed softly, "well that's a secret. But Poosha," she placed a hand adoringly on his large, furry arm, "is what I have always called him."

"Thanks," he blushed slightly before returning to 'poosha'. "Always? You two know each other?" Henry was still a bit flabbergasted.

"Raisa lived at the Sanctuary a few months before you arrived." Glancing down at her, he nodded, "The presentation was good," he inhaled twice before adding, "I am proud."

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," she smiled sincerely. "Can we catch up later? I have another presentation but would love to talk further. I have so many questions and there's so much to tell you."

"Dinner?" Henry quickly interjected. "We'll meet you at seven in the restaurant downstairs."

Before the Big Guy could say no, Raisa nodded. "Da, seven it is. It is so good to see you, Poosha." She turned to face the crowds between her and the podium.

Henry turned to watch her walk away, unaware of the large furry hand that was heading once more towards the back of his head.


	6. 03:27

**Notes:** This seems like a good time to remind people that I don't own anything about Sanctuary :D Again, many thanks to my reviewers and those who have favorited (yes, that's a verb) and are following the story! Now, on with the text...

-Juls

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Three Twenty-Seven<strong>

"Helen…" John's voice was distant at first. She searched blindly in the darkness for the source of her name. A misstep in the pitch black. The whooshing of air. Her hands reached out to grab hold of anything to stop her fall. A ledge, a wall, a crevice, a hand.

At the terrifying sensation of free falling she startled awake. Magnus quickly surveyed her surroundings. The pulsating beep of the monitor, the soft rumbling of the environmental systems and her hand resting on familiar flesh grounded her. The clock on the monitor read 3:27, it was the dead of night and the Sanctuary was eerily quiet.

Slowly, she removed her hand from his and lightly felt his forehead. It was still hot to the touch, but the monitor revealed his temperature had dropped to near 39 C. His eyes moved quickly under his eyelids as he shuddered in his sleep, muttering her name again. She stood carefully before waking him, so as not to betray her position at his side. He stirred again, a look of anguish flashed across his face. She gently shook his shoulders, "John."

He startled awake. She placed her hand on his chest to prevent him from sitting up, "You were having a nightmare." She could feel his heart racing under her palm. "It's ok, you're safe." Leaning against the bed, she placed her hand on the mattress next to his head and hovered over him assuredly, "Do you remember coming here?" Glancing into his pupils, she could see that they were no longer fully dilated and were responsive to the changes in light as she cast a shadow over his face.

"Helen," he swallowed and appraised his environment as she had done only moments before. Nodding slowly in acknowledgement of her question his eyes returned to hers. He caught the faint scent of lavender and sandalwood as her hair cascaded down in front of her shoulders. Even after all this time she still used Yardley's English Lavender talc. The familiarity of the scent, her scent, was subconsciously comforting. "Thank you," he exhaled slowly.

"Of course," she stared into his eyes and smiled softly. The moment lasted a few seconds too long and her skin began to flush. She cleared her throat as she stood to full height, pulling herself away from his gaze and collecting her tablet. "Your fever has come down slightly. How are you feeling?"

John inhaled deeply and stared upwards savoring the last of her bouquet in the air, "Tired but better than I have in days, no doubt a result of your ministrations." His head turned to watch her as she focused on the device in her hand.

"Scans show you are not contagious but I have been unable to isolate the cause of the infection. Based on your symptoms, I have ruled out a virus, but that leaves bacterial, prion, fungal, parasitic, protozoan, auto-immune..." her voice trailed off. She rubbed her forehead with her hand and tossed the tablet aside, notably frustrated with her own inconclusive results. "When did the symptoms start?

"Over a week ago," the air was thick with her frustration and he wanted to assure her that all would be all right, but he was not one to make empty promises. "I was fatigued and sore. After two days I noticed fever and chills."

She paced at the side of his bed. "Any localized pain? Nausea? Vomiting?" A century of medical knowledge and she wasted over eight hours just coming up with a diagnosis. Frustrated was an understatement. Her characteristic composure was already threatened at this late hour. Suddenly aware of her pacing, she stopped abruptly. She leaned back against the counter and crossed her legs at her ankles, her red heels tapping lightly on the ground.

"No and no." It was not often that he had seen Helen Magnus on the brink of losing her composure. There was nothing he could say to remedy the situation. He offered up what information he could, "I was in Latin America."

"What for?" She picked up the tablet and tapped a few buttons. No malarial antigens were detected in his blood sample. No sign of bug bite. No noticeable rashes on his chest or arms.

"I," John hesitated, "I had found an old Cabal lab that was still operable." In truth he had found the lab almost two years ago, shortly after Ashley's death. It was one of the last sites he had infiltrated before killing the head of the organization, Dana Whitcomb. He had managed to take out the operatives on site before they had the opportunity to activate the self-destruct sequence.

"The Cabal?" Her eyes cast downward for a moment. "What were you doing there?" She tapped idly on the pad, instinctually trying not to dwell on those last moments with Ashley. An intense sadness filled her heart as she pictured her baby girl transporting into oblivion in front of her. She quickly pushed the emotions aside.

"I was trying to extract the creature from inside me." He noticed the change in her expression as he continued, "The Cabal had been working on ways to control their latter attempts at creating super soldiers. At this lab, they had done research on managing their teleportation abilities - my abilities. They were developing a machine that would trap the abnormals as they were in transit between locations. In theory, it would act as a magnet for the type of energy used during transportation. Once the individual was caught inside, it would prevent him or her from rematerializing… indefinitely." He swallowed, trying to abate the scratching and pain in his throat.

"Were you successful?" He had claimed the creature was gone, but his tone led her to believe that he had not succeeded.

"I was attempting to reprogram the machine to extract the being from inside of me. I was close but," he looked upwards regretfully, "somehow it discovered my motives. It…" John searched for the right words; his vision blurred slightly as sweat dripped off his brow, "it left me and is hunting me. Once it kills me, its murderous rampage will continue anew."

"How is that possible?" Her mind tried to wrap itself around the story. It could be an elaborate deception, but that was more Nikola's style. What purpose would he have to deceive her?

The creature was the most malignant force she had ever encountered. For over a century, John had done what he could to hold it at bay, to protect the world from the depth of its evil. If it had found a new host it would indubitably find ways to fuel its homicidal rage. She stared at the floor, lost in thought.

" It found a new host. I was attempting to return to the lab to continue to modify the machine when it attacked. I realized that," his voice softened as he confessed, "I need your help to beat it, Helen."

Her gaze rose from the floor and she immediately noticed the color had drained from his face. She turned to the monitor. His fever had risen and his heart was racing. She adeptly pulled a vial of meperidine from the cabinet. "What you need, is to rest." Carefully yet quickly, she prepared a 50mg syringe. "This will help with the pain and will allow you to sleep."

"I will be fine," he managed, more for his own assurance than hers, as he attempted to sit up. "There is work to be done. If the creature…"

She placed a hand firmly on his bare chest and pushed him gently into the bed with a caring stare, "You came to me for help, John. So let me."

He nodded in defeat. She injected the opiate solution into his IV line. "Rest. We can talk in a few hours." She wiped his forehead with the towel before reaching for his hand, "I will be here when you wake up. We can work then."

"Thank you, Hel'n." He gently squeezed her hand as his eyelids fought to close.


End file.
